


Five Feet Apart

by Superfast_Jellybitch



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: (implied at least) - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Grey-Asexual Alastor, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Past Sexual Assault, Touch-Starved, it's mild, touch-repulsed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21707419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superfast_Jellybitch/pseuds/Superfast_Jellybitch
Summary: One shouldn't dish out what they themselves cannot take.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 455





	Five Feet Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Everything I touch turns to smut, I can't explain it either

It started with a simple touch. Not even one of his grand performances of throwing himself upon Alastor, just a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. The demon had smacked it away with his microphone, cracking it against Angel's knuckles harshly, reminding him in a chiding tone about the "five foot rule." Whatever. He'd apologized, asked his question, and moved on. After all, this was standard stuff for them. But the thing that got to him was how freely Alastor seemed to touch him. Oh, the Radio Demon had no trouble at all placing his hands on Angel's person at odd intervals, jerking him one way or another, squeezing him, holding him, but if Angel so much as put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention, he ended up with bruised knuckles. When Alastor's hands once again found their way to his shoulders mere moments after having smacked Angel's away for the same offense, something in him snapped. He jerked himself away, stepping back so there was a rather large amount of space between them.

"What the fuck is your problem, huh?" He snapped, glowering down at Alastor, who looked back up at Angel with wide, doe like eyes.

"I....I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. You'll have to be more specific, my dear; I'm told I have a rather large list of flaws."

"If you hate being touched so much, why the hell can't you keep your hands to your damn self?!"

Angel watched on unimpressed as Alastor's smile faltered, eyes growing impossibly larger, before his features snapped back to their usual composition. He'd taken him by surprise, if only for a moment, and yet, couldn't bring himself to feel the satisfaction of throwing him off his rhythm.

"I don't see what the problem is. You _like_ being touched." Alastor said flatly, rather intentionally dodging the question.

"Do I?" Angel's glare turned icier, and he took a step closer, standing to his full height. "Or did you just decide that yourself like every other piece of shit who thinks he has a right to my body just because of what I do for a living? 'Cause I don't remember you ever asking where my personal space begins."

"I-I never-" Alastor began to backpedal, having realized the error in judgement he made, but it was too late. Angel Dust was _irate_ , and there was no stopping the incoming tsunami of rage.

"You never what? Thought a _whore_ might not wanna be touched? Lemme tell you something motherfucker- you don't know what it _means_ to not wanna be touched! You think my hand on your fucking shoulder is the end of the world? You should see the things I've had to do to for rent money!"

"Now, Angel Dust, I think it would be best if you would calm down so we can disc-"

"Oh _you_ do _not_ get to tell me to calm down." Angel growled, jabbing a finger at him. "You want to be five feet apart? Fucking _fine by me_. From now on, if I feel so much as a finger on me, I'm gonna make you regret bein' _born_ "

Alastor's ears pricked back upwards from where they'd been pressed to his skull for the duration of Angel Dust's heated rant- more an instinctive reaction to his volume than anything- and twitched just a fraction in irritation. His eyes flashed a firey red, grin horrifyingly superficial and full of sharp teeth. Clearly he'd taken Angel about as seriously as he always did, which made the spider's blood boil even hotter.

"Have no fear, Angel Dust. You'll find that I, unlike _some people_ have very little trouble respecting _personal boundaries_." He hissed through his teeth, the words mingling with a barrage of radio static.

"Eat. My. Ass." Angel Dust spat, not for lack of ability to form a comeback, but because this bastard wasn't _worth_ his best material.

"Terribly sorry, but that would be in direct violation of the 'five foot' rule." Alastor said smugly, sneering up at Angel for a moment before turning on his heel and walking off, humming a buzzy little tune to himself and leaving the spider to froth at the mouth in anger. 

\-------------------------------------------------

Alastor had not, in fact, taken Angel Dust seriously at all. He'd gotten a little heated under the collar and needed a release for that anger, was all. Alastor could understand that. Forgive the transgression. He had been at fault, after all. But he'd also been certain that things would go back to normal after Angel had had time to cool off. After all, he'd not known him to be the grudge-holding type. So when he'd unthinkingly reached for Angel's arm, he'd been quite shocked to find his hand swatted rather viciously away. Alastor stroked over the new gashes in his hand with awe, unable to think of anything to say.

"Five feet, Alastor." Angel reminded in an even tone of voice, as though he hadn't just sliced through the hand of a demon overlord with claws Alastor didn't even know he had.

Had it been anyone else, they would have been dead by now. Had the circumstances been any different, he would've made an example of him. Something horribly wicked that said 'this is what happens to those who dare challenge the Radio Demon'. But it was Angel Dust, and evidently, he was _serious_. Alastor didn't think he'd ever really seen the guy well and truly _serious_ before. At least not like this. Not serious enough to fight back.

"Of course. Do forgive me. I'll be more diligent in the future." He said in a chipper tone, tucking his still-bleeding hand into his pocket in an attempt to conceal the damage.

"You'd better."

Alastor wasn't used to being threatened like that. Not by anyone with a lick of sense, at least. And Angel Dust, for all his quirks, was not a _fool_. It intrigued him. Angel Dust had never demonstrated any fear of him, true, but Alastor still hadn't thought he'd actually considered them equals. Not when he had such a reputation. Not when Angel had witnessed him in action and knew the swift cruelty Alastor was capable of when the fancy took him. That boldness...it was exhilarating.

"Or what? You'll kill me?" Alastor chuckled.

"You overlord types are all the same." Angel sighed, sounding more bored than anything. " 'Do things my way or I'll filet ya', 'Be a good bitch and no one has to get hurt', 'Do you have any idea the things I've done? The things I could do to you'. You all think you're tough shit cuz you got a little bit more power than some of us. It's so _boring_. You don't scare me, Alastor. You never could. So stop wasting your breath, you washed up static-y relic."

Angel stood from his seat then, hips swaying as he walked away, no doubt due more to the height of his heels than a conscious seductive decision. Alastor couldn't help but stare after him, mouth slightly agape. W..washed up?

\----------------------------------------------

Was he being over-sensitive? Oh, probably. But the way Angel Dust saw it, he spent so much time up in the clouds or steeling himself into well-practiced numbness that he'd earned his moments of hypersensitivity. Besides, it was _Alastor_. He'd always had a bit of a crush on the deer demon, and he wasn't afraid to admit it, seeing as it would never be reciprocated. Normally, it wasn't a burden on him, but when Alastor manhandled him the way he so liked to...well suddenly that was a problem. It was like putting a tray of hot delicious cookies in front of him and then beating him with a cane for reaching for one.

It had been a good 3 weeks since he'd instated a five foot rule of his own, and while he'd occasionally had to slice at forgetful hands, on the whole Alastor had been a man of his word, which Angel Dust had found woefully disappointing. He'd kinda been hoping that Alastor would fuck up in a big way and he'd have to bite him, injecting a powerful neurotoxin into his bloodstream that would leave him paralyzed for a few days. Ah, well, he still had time.

Come to think of it, Alastor had been unusually touchy with everyone lately. Well, everyone but him. And not in his usual manhandle-y way either. Just the other day he'd caught him with his arm around a rather uncomfortable Charlie. If it hadn't been so awkward, it might've been cuddling. Angel almost laughed out loud. He hadn't really realized how much time he and Alastor _did_ spend touching, even when he wasn't draping himself across him for the sake of annoying him. it was quite a stark difference, the lack of contact, but it was nice, in a way.

No more torturing himself with what he couldn't have, no more sharp static crackles, or harsh microphone feedback in his ears, or bruises from that microphone Alastor seemed to always have readily on hand. Perhaps he should have been more respectful of the five foot rule to begin with. However, that probably wouldn't have fixed the problem of Alastor's own handsiness. He stretched out languidly on the loveseat, enjoying his view of Alastor petting Husker's head the way one would do to a pet cat, the demon clearly growing more agitated with every stroke.

"Alastor, quit tormenting the bartender. I want a tequila sunrise." He grinned, pulling a few bills from his bra.

"You heard the customer, Al." Husker grunted, twisting away from his hands. "Piss off and let me work."

In moments, a tequila sunrise appeared in his hand, swapped with the cash. Neat. Usually he would've had to get up, and even then his drink would've come on Husker's own time. It's amazing what people will do to get out of an uncomfortable situation. Alastor hadn't said anything in defense of himself, offered no explanation, and walked back around the bar, hooves clicking against the hardwood.

"Thanks babe. Keep the change." Angel Dust purred, winking at the bartender.

"Oh gee. 12 cents. Thanks, big spender." Husk sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't get paid enough to deal with this shit."

\-------------------------------------------------

This was.....less than ideal. It shouldn't be that hard for him to refrain from touching Angel Dust, of all people, and yet, he caught himself reaching for him all too often. It wasn't even necessarily about Angel Dust, either. It was about _touch_ , and he was realizing, now that it was absent, that that clingy spider demon was how he'd been getting his fix all this time. Theoretically, that touch didn't _have_ to come from Angel Dust. If he could just find someone else to paw at like a cat with a toy mouse, he'd be fine.

In practice, however, it was far less simple. The fact of the matter was he could poke, prod, jerk, caress, and grab at any of the people under this roof he wanted and it _still_ wouldn't compare. He would know, he'd tried. The reason, he'd realized, was in the way they _reacted_ to being touched. Charlie had been the most obliging, but even they had been tense under his palm. There was always that undercurrent of power imbalance- the sense that the only reason his antics were being tolerated was intimidation. It was never like that with Angel. Angel was always fluid under his touch, coming up to meet him wherever his hands ended up. Never afraid. Never just 'tolerating' him.

It had grown to the point that Alastor was even beginning to miss the way Angel Dust used to cling to him like cellophane, many arms twisting around his form in a way Alastor could hardly keep up with. Of course, all of this was only made worse by the fact that the spider demon seemed to be basking in the distance between them. It was viscerally terrifying for Alastor to even entertain the thought that perhaps _he_ was the one who needed _Angel Dust_ , and not the other way around. In fact, Angel seemed not to care one way or the other, while Alastor felt much like he did come springtime when his antlers began the itchy process of growing back.

No, this was not 'less than ideal', actually. This was isolating. It was desolate. It was maddening. It was _torture_.

\-----------------------------------------------

Morning coffee was a must-have for Angel Dust. He just didn't function without a little caffeine in his system- one more in a long list of little addictions. As he poured himself a cup in the kitchen downstairs, a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. In his sleepy haze, the touch felt like heaven, and he leaned back into it, feeling the person's cheek press between his top shoulder blades. Angel's lower hands came to rest atop the ones on his stomach, taking a deep swig from his coffee mug, before the familiar black and red patterning registered and things clicked into place. Still drinking his coffee, Angel dug his claws into Alastor's hands. The demon behind him hissed in pain, trying to jerk his hands back only to find them pinned there by the very claws inflicting it.

"My how the tables turn, eh Al?" He chuckled softly, digging in deeper and feeling himself break skin. "Never thought you'd be the one clinging to me."

Mercifully, he lets him go, turning around to watch the overlord clutch his hands in pain. It always brought him a sick sort of satisfaction when he was able to demonstrate what a mistake it was to underestimate him. Angel Dust put his lower hand on his hip, jutting it out to one side in a posture that carried with it all the frustration within him.

"Whassa matter, Smiles? You missin' me?" He teased.

"Hardly." Alastor scoffed, trying and failing to sound as cold as he would like. "I just think your charade has gone on long enough. You've made your point, now let's let things return to normal, shall we? It's unnerving to see you so...composed."

"Who says it's a charade?" Angel retorted, gesturing wildly with his mug, coffee sloshing about as he did so. "In case you haven't forgotten, I'm a porn star. I let people touch me for a living. I don't really _need_ any more physical attention. You, on the other hand?" He paused to chuckle. "Well, I'm the only thing you got going for you, huh?"

"That is a simply ludicrous implication." Alastor said stiffly. "I do not _need_ the suffocating attentions of a drug-addled nyphomaniac arachnid."

"Well you certainly seem to _need_ the attentions of _someone_." Angel pointed out, taking a calculated step closer. "And the others just aren't doin it for ya, right Al? Now look. I'm willing to lift my 'five foot rule' -"

"Splendid! That's the end of that-"

"I ain't finished." Angel snapped. He never did like being interrupted- especially when he was getting to the good part. "I'll lift the 'five foot rule' when you admit you need me."

"A tediously unnecessary prerequisite." Alastor's ear twitched in irritation, his eyes narrowing to red slits. "I don't see why you'd have me lie to you about something so small."

"Because it's not small. Not to you." Angel smirked. "You want me back? I need to hear it. I need you on your knees for me, begging me to touch you. I wanna hear you say 'Angel Dust, I need you. I'm sorry I was such a cocktease. Hold me like you used to.'"

"Such a pity your....creative requests shall go unfulfilled." Alastor said through a particularly violent burst of radio static.

"Yeah. For you." Angel Dust laughed. "Guess you'll just have to keep trying to pet Husker."

\----------------------------------

Alastor was loathe to admit it, but he was growing desperate. It was as if spring had come early, and some great lonesome part of himself that he preferred to keep buried had begun clawing its way upward, scratching at the inside of his chest with needle-sharp urgency. But to grovel? To place himself at Angel Dust's boots and plead with him? He was far too proud to even consider the notion.

Unfortunately, that left him with a rather sensitive problem. A hunger that only grew worse as he denied it, as he was so unaccustomed to denying himself even the most insignificant of pleasures. He had, of course, considered pulling rank on the whole matter- draping himself forcefully across the spider as he used to so often do to Alastor, content in the knowledge that he was powerless to stop the embrace, but then he'd recalled the comments Angel Dust had on the matter before- about his coworkers' and clients' apparent lack of respect for his body- and he felt sick. He wasn't a _monster_. At least, not that kind, anyway.

Besides one of the primary things he _craved_ was that intense feeling that there was someone who _desired_ him. Who well and truly _wanted_ to touch and be touched by him, even if he was very particular about it. To think that Angel Dust well and truly did not care whether or not they ever touched again...it made him inexplicably mournful and morose. In fact, he might even go so far as to say it....well it broke his black little heart in twain.

Oh my word. He had feelings for Angel Dust. How had he not realized it sooner? He couldn't believe he had been so obtuse. Perhaps...perhaps just this once, it was time to concede. To put his pride away and give the poor spider just an inch. After all, he simply couldn't stomach the thought of the alternative.

\----------------------------------

Being cornered in the hallway at 3 in the morning was not how Angel Dust was expecting this to end, and yet, here he was; pressed flush against the wall, held there by Alastor's body weight, hands pinned to his side. For a moment, he couldn't find his breath, caught looking down into hungry ruby red eyes. He shouldn't be allowing this. It was against his rule, and he still had two hands he could use to shove the demon off of him. Four, if necessary. And yet, he doesn't move as Alastor nuzzles himself between his breasts, sighing with contentment.

"Angel Dust...." His voice is husky, purred through heavy static in a way that sends a hot shiver down Angel's spine. "I _need_ you...."

Holy shit was this real? Was this actually happening? Angel still couldn't breathe as he felt the top button of his jacket slide free under Alastor's fingers. He kissed down Angel's torso, stopping at the spot where his second button still held his suit jacket closed. Angel felt a finger slide under his stocking, stroking the soft fur of his inner thigh and he shivered at the contact.

"I'm _sorry_....." He paused to hitch Angel's leg up, situating himself between his legs. "...That I have been such a 'cocktease'. _Please_..."

Angel thought he was going to die a second time as Alastor slid ever so slowly down his body and onto his knees before him, hooking his leg over his shoulder. With one finger, he rolled Angel's stocking down to where it disappeared beneath his boot, pressing a soft kiss to his inner thigh, looking up at him with heavily lidded eyes.

"Hold me like you used to."

Angel Dust stared down at him with wide eyes, unable to think of anything to say. What the actual shitting hell? Alastor- _his_ Alastor, the one who hated to be touched and hated the notion of getting laid even more- was down on his knees in front of him, spreading his legs, nuzzling into his bare thigh, _begging_ for him. What _could_ he say in that situation, when everything he ever wanted was right there at his feet?

"That was the requested script, was it not?"

"Yeah...." Angel said in a hushed tone, hesitantly reaching out to put a hand on Alastor's head.

To his surprise, the touch is accepted with a needy whine, Alastor's ears falling back against his head almost immediately, eyes sliding shut. Oh fuck. This _was_ real.

"Though, if I may, I'd like to make an amendment."

"Yeah alright sure." Angel said so fast it may as well have been one word.

"Angel Dust..." Alastor began, the Louisiana creole heavy on his tongue as his hand slid further up Angel's thigh. "Make love to me."

That was it. He was done for. Angel Dust let his head fall back against the wall, letting out an audible gasp of "Oh _fuck_." 

"Is that a 'yes'?"

" _Fuck_ yes, Al."

Alastor grinned up at him wickedly, and Angel felt it in his blood. He hitched Angel's skirt up above his rear, cupping it in his hands and pulling his hips to his face, nuzzling against the material of his panties, breathing him in. Angel Dust couldn't believe how much the action turned him on, his hands digging into Alastor's hair, earning him a satisfied gasp. Alastor lapped at him through the material, tongue soaking through the satin, making him squirm against his face. Fingers hooked around the garment, pulling it aside roughly, ripping seams in his desperation. Angel couldn't even find it in him to yell at him for ruining the nice panties, so scared that he'd break whatever spell had been cast over the Radio Demon. He whimpered as Alastor's tongue swept across his sex, flicking against his clit. It was far from the best head he'd ever had, but it was made so much better by the fact that it was _Alastor_ between his legs, eating him like a starving man. Angel's legs shook as he felt that impossibly long tongue penetrate him, doing things to him that he had rarely experienced before. Before long, a finger replaced his tongue, curling just so, mindful of claws, and Angel's hips jerked in response. He still couldn't believe this was happening, and perhaps that's why he was sent hurtling over the edge so quickly, knees giving out underneath him, finding himself caught at the last minute.

"Is that a typical reaction for you?" Alastor asked hoarsely, using the back of his hand to wipe drool and sticky fluid from his face. It's a sight that makes Angel hot all over again.

"Only when it's good." Angel gasped, trying to find his footing. "C'mon, I ain't gonna let you fuck me in the hall when I've got a perfectly good bed a few feet away."

\---------------------------------------------

This was not Alastor's area of expertise, no, but he was absolutely drunk on arousal. On touch. On the feeling of being wanted. Being cared for. His head positively swam with it. Once he'd begun, he could not seem to keep his hands off of Angel Dust. To be allowed to touch him again after so long of having to go without....oh it was positively divine. His tail stuck straight up in anticipation, he followed Angel back down the hall to his bedroom, one hand clasped in his and the other resting on his hip.

It had been ages since he'd felt like this, but the hunger for touch was heightening everything, bringing it to a frantic head. He didn't think he'd ever get enough, even as Angel Dust dragged him onto the bed, all 8 limbs wrapping around him as his third set of arms made themselves known. His hands wandered Angel's plush body, feeling as though it was terribly unfair that he only had the two. Oh, but he was so terribly soft, and so wonderfully fluid, gliding against him. Alastor was so deeply invested in this heady embrace that he'd forgotten what they were there to do. That is, until Angel Dust's hands found his tail and his ears at the same time. Alastor let out a shaky cry that fizzled into crackling static, hips jerking forward, grinding against Angel's bare crotch.

Alastor's experiences with being on the giving end of penetrative sex were....extremely limited, and quite unsatisfactory. Even as Angel undid the buttons of his slacks, his mind wandered back to his less successful ventures into the matter. But it was what Angel _wanted_ and just for the moment, all he wanted was to give his Angel everything his little heart desired, even if the reality may prove more disappointing than the fantasy. Angel's hand, having lost its glove at some point, coaxed his cock gently from its sheath, wrapping around it expertly. 

He let out a crackling sigh, closing his eyes and trying to focus on the sensation. He couldn't recall whether he'd been touched like this before- at least, in this body, anyway. There was that dreadful business at the winter ball in 1907, but he'd prefer not to count that. Even with Angel's far more experienced hands doing far more pleasurable things to him, he found himself growing ever more impatient. Foreplay really was not his cup of tea. With a growl, he pushed Angel Dust back to the mattress, hitching his skirt up around his waist and his legs back over his shoulders.

"Yes?" He asked, voice low.

Angel Dust nodded, eyes wide and eager. He supposed nonverbal consent counted, when it was that enthusiastic. Of course, there was also the fact that one of Angel's hands had already snaked down between them to line them up just right. Alastor thrust forward, sheathing himself in one sharp movement that had Angel gasping his name, and- oh....oh that was _something _. Deliciously tight and so very warm, too much and yet, not enough at the same time. Experimentally, he pushed deeper, Angel writhing on him in a way that seemed...honestly genuine. Gripping Angel's hips tightly, he set up a brutal, erratic pace, desperately chasing down more of the delightful little sounds the spider was making. Even buried deep within him, Alastor still felt as though he were not nearly close enough to him. But seeing as Angel likely wouldn't be able to survive him skinning him alive and nestling into his thoracic cavity, this was what he had to settle for.__

____

____

Alastor bent over him, burying sharp teeth into the sensitive skin of Angel's neck, relishing the harsh metallic tang of blood washing over his tongue and the way Angel tightened around him. Nearly there. Nearly close enough. Angel's hands clawed at his back, ripping his shirt, twisted themselves into the bedsheets, rubbed furiously at his own clit, and reached for Alastor's ears all at the same time. Alastor gasps, hips stuttering into him. Damn his sensitivities. In a matter of moments, Angel Dust had him on the edge of orgasm. Oh no, he couldn't...not yet. He hadn't had enough yet. Hadn't made up for lost time. Hadn't drank his fill of physical contact.

"It's okay baby." Angel Dust cooed into his ear, as if sensing his dilemma. "We got all the time in the world."

Alastor let go, spilling into him with a ragged gasp. He bit his lip, sharp teeth drawing blood with little effort, fearful of what deep dark confessions might slip past in the heat of the moment. Angel Dust tightened around him, legs locking at the base of his spine, pinning him inside him as he came for a second time that night. Alastor panted against his shoulder, well and thoroughly spent, and yet still so very _starved_. As usual, sex had not been the answer, though this had been an experience he felt he could count as a success. He whimpered, burying his face further into Angel Dust's fluffy chest. To his surprise, the words he'd feared came tumbling from Angel Dust's lips instead of his own, whispered against the top of his head with reverence as hands came up to hold him in every way imaginable, stroking his hair, his back, caressing his face.

"I love ya, Al. I ain't the best at lovin' people, or expressing that, I know, but for all its worth, I _do_ love ya. In my own fucked up little way."

"I'm no better at it, cher." Alastor drawled. "We're just a mess, aren't we?"

"Maybe. But I like things a little messy."

"On that, we can agree."

With a snap of his fingers, they were cleaned and nude, as full-body, skin-to-skin contact was non-negotiable at this point. Alastor didn't often abuse his powers like this- especially since it seemed to take so much out of him, as of late- but desperate times called for desperate measures. Angel's arms wrapped tight around him almost instantly, dragging him as close as he possibly could, pressing a kiss to his head.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Angel Dust supposed his little experiment had been a success, in a way. Just not the way he'd initially anticipated. Still, he supposed it was worth all the trouble, to give Alastor a taste of his own medicine. Especially since it had ended so....explosively. If putting Alastor on such a short leash got him this riled up, he might have to try it again sometime. But for now, his little deer demon was touch-starved beyond imagination and who was he to deny him any longer, when he'd been so good about respecting the boundaries Angel put in place? When he'd jumped through every ridiculous hoop Angel had held up? When he'd asked him for consent every step of the way? Angel would have to be a cruel man indeed to continue to withhold his affections after that. Alastor had been correct. They really _were_ a mess. A touch-averse, touch-starved, asexual deer and a trans gay spider who fucked his problems away instead of dealing with them....by all means it shouldn't work at all, and yet....

Alastor made a transistor-like chirp in his sleep, breaking the soft pattern of rumbling static-y snores, and it made Angel melt just a little bit more. He was perpetually intrigued at how a demon that could be so tremendously terrifying at times could be so damn precious at the same time. Kissing his forehead one last time, Angel turned out the light at long last, gladly resigning himself to being a mattress for the evening.


End file.
